


Daddy's little deductionist

by BlissfulDetectives



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Daddy John, Daddy Sherlock, M/M, Oneshot, Original Female Characters - Freeform, Parent!lock, Parentlock, The Headmistress is a bitch, their daughter is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlissfulDetectives/pseuds/BlissfulDetectives
Summary: Sherlock and John's daughter has been excluded from school and the Detective is the one left to deal with the Headmistress.





	Daddy's little deductionist

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is just a little Johnlock/Parentlock oneshot that I posted on Wattpad years ago but after finding it again decided to post it here too because I actually really loved how it ended up and wanted to share it here. Please enjoy and tell me what you think of it.

"The sister-in-law is your murderer Lestrade," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly with a grin. "Obviously it would be someone the victim knew going by the fact that there was no struggle and they had willingly invited them into their home. She felt that Mr Garrett drove her husband to commit suicide with all of the financial trouble he was getting himself and his brother into with his drug addiction, so waited until he'd fallen asleep and injected him with enough heroin to cause a fatal overdose. Revenge is sweet, isn't it?"

Lestrade let out a sigh of relief. This case had rattled him for weeks. "Well I assume she wiped the prints from the syringe afterwards?"

"Yes. But she made the mistake of touching the door handle on the way out, leaving prints which also contained tiny traces of the drug. He relapsed straight away, meaning that he couldn't possibly have been the one who left-"  
The sound of Sherlock's ringtone interrupted his analysis. He sighed and pulled out his mobile, pressing the button and bringing it to his ear. "John?"

"Yeah, I need you to go and get Amelie from school, I'm busy at the surgery."

"Well I'm busy here - I thought children didn't finish until three?" he asked with a frown.  
"They don't, but she's in trouble. She's being excluded apparently. Her Head of Year wants at least one of us to go down there." He sounded tired. Sherlock also detected worry in his words. 

The Detective gritted his teeth and let out a frustrated moan. "What've they accused her of this time, it's only their fault if they're all too stupid to keep up with her."

"They didn't give me any details, they just said that her attitude is getting out of hand and that we're needed there urgently," Sherlock could mentally see him rubbing his eyes whilst sitting at his desk.

"Fine, but you know that I'll probably only make the situation worse."

"I'd go down there myself if I wasn't stuck here, but you know I'm here until 2.30."

They said their goodbyes and Sherlock stood up, buttoning his suit jacket and walking over to the mirror to check his hair. "I'll have to wrap this up Gary, I have to pick our daughter up from school."

"It's Greg! And what about-"

"I've told you everything you need to know, surely you can get the rest on your own? Or do you need me to knock on the sister-in-law's door and arrest her myself?" he asked with frustrated sarcasm.

"Okay, fine. But I'll need you in some time this week to write up the report."

"Yes, fine! That's if you don't thrust more cases at me to solve for you in the meantime." He didn't stop to see the D.I's face, or even to see if he was following him down the stairs and out the front door.

"Hold up, I'll give you a lift!" Lestrade stated as Sherlock had begun to walk along the street to summon a taxi.

-

Once they pulled up outside the school, Sherlock got straight out of the police car and made sure that his coat collar was turned up; adjusting his scarf. The automatic doors to the reception opened and he walked straight through to his daughter's Head of Year's Office. He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and knocked loudly on the door. Considering how much of an imbecile he knew this woman to be, he was not about to start playing nice any time soon with her. He opened the door without waiting for permission, to see his 6-year-old daughter sitting in a chair to the side of the desk, swinging her legs backwards and forwards with a smug smile on her face. He smirked as she turned to look at him, seeing that she didn't look the least bit upset or "ashamed" for whatever the reasoning for her being there was. Her smile grew as she saw him, and rushed from the chair to hug his legs. He patted her curly black hair affectionately.

"Ah, Mr Holmes, do sit down," Ms Abercombe's stern voice caused him to lift his head sharply and frown at her. She was a bitter 59-year-old who'd recently just gotten divorced - this would be her 5th one. Her greying hair was pulled into a low bun and going by the fact that her face was almost as tight as her hair, Sherlock deduced that she'd had Botox since he'd last seen her. Not much of an improvement, in his opinion. He pried Amelie's arms from around his knees and gestured for her to sit back down in the chair next to him in front of the battle-axe's desk. "It seems that your daughter's attitude has worsened over the past few weeks. She apparently called her form teacher an "unknowledgeable fool" and me a "bitter old windbag". Sherlock snorted with laughter, causing Ms Abercombe's eyes to widen in shock. "Is something funny Mr Holmes?"

"She'd be right," was all's he said, flashing her a condescending smile.

"You think that this behaviour is acceptable do you? A child of her age should not be encouraged to use such language!"

"She _should_ if she believes that that is what a person is. I assure you, Ms. Abercombe - her skills of deduction are very sharp."

The woman's lips had become very thin as her brows knitted together. "Well I believe I have found the source of her attitude."

"Naturally."

She ignored him and pressed on. "Miss Watson-Holmes also decided to pull a chair from where a classmate was sitting, causing him to fall and bang his backside, along with pulling all of the finger paintings from the wall because she believed that the way they had been put up looked as if "a 2-year-old had done the job". And that was just today alone! Yesterday she was reported to have told one of her classmates that the girl's mother had stolen the ring your daughter had seen her wearing at home time and that another boy's grandmother was terminally ill."

Amelie let out a noise of frustration. "I already told Mr Andrews that I was lifting the chair up because a piece of my work was trapped underneath. It's not my fault Jack was too stupid to stop himself from falling over!"

"Exactly," said Sherlock with a smirk. "And was she correct about that last one?" he asked with raised eyebrows. He had deduced that one himself a while ago.

"That is none of your concern. And even if it was, she had no right to tell the boy that his grandmother was "going to die soon."

"Well you can't punish a child for being brutally honest. And what is that famous quote?" he asked, pretending to wrack his brains. "Oh yes, 'for every good reason there is to lie, there is a better one to tell the truth' - the boy's grandmother is terminally ill and has been for almost a year. Him knowing saves him a whole lot of heartache. Now he can say goodbye."

The woman looked furious. "In all of my years teaching, I have-"

"Never met someone like me? Yes, I get that a lot. Call me gifted," he gave her a fake and exaggerated smile.

"I've had enough of this. Your daughter is not to come back into school until Tuesday. Maybe Mr Watson can teach her some manners and how to properly behave, as I don't believe we could entrust _you_ with that, could we Mr Holmes?" she pursed her lips and looked down the end of her nose at him.

"I was under the impression that that was _your_ job for the six hours that we leave our daughter in the care of your staff. Obviously we've made a mistake in thinking you people are capable of carrying out such a simple task. We bring Amelie here to learn. It isn't hers, or _my_ problem that you cannot keep up with her advanced knowledge or brutal honesty. I'd tell you that choosing to exclude her for five days and not allowing her to school is preventing her from developing her knowledge, but I can tell you that she'd learn more from me in a single hour than she would here in six years," he sneered at the woman, continuing. He leant forwards and placed his hands on her desk. "You'd better hope that it's John that comes in next time Ms Abercombe, because I promise you I will be a lot less tolerant of you and your team of incapable fools if I'm required to come in again." With that, he removed his hands from the desk and turned on his heel, grabbing his young daughter's hand and thrusting the door open - letting it bang against the corner of her bookshelf.

"It should be you that comes all the time Dad," Amelie giggled, squeezing his hand and walking twice as fast to keep up with his strides through reception and out of the automatic doors. "Papa just nods his head all the time and says that 'he'll see what he can do.'"

"Well you know how I feel about idiots darling. There is absolutely nothing wrong with speaking your mind and telling the truth. Be whatever you want to be, do whatever you want to do, but do not sugarcoat anything. This world is only black or white."  
He signalled a taxi and they were driven back to 221b, with Amelie asking her dad about various atomic numbers from the periodic table and asking him to quiz her.

-

When John got home, Amelie ran to where he stood at the doorway to the living room and engulfed him in a huge hug. "How'd it go?"

"Dad gave the old windbag a right seeing to," she said with a cheerful laugh.

Sherlock chuckled as John scolded her. "She's not allowed back in until Tuesday apparently. But somehow I doubt she'll be getting phone calls home any time soon."

John's eyes widened. "Oh, god what did you do? You didn't go too far did you?"

"Oh, don't worry John. I only told her what she needed to hear. She can do with my words what she will." He plonked himself down on the couch, relaxing as Amelie snuggled closer to him. He stroked his fingers through her hair whilst grabbing a firm hold of his husband's hand. "Don't worry - I'm sure you're still in all their good books," he smirked.

"That's not what it's about - I'm just worried incase they treat her more harshly from the rest. And now that Mrs Marshall has met you that may be more likely." He threw down his bag and coat and sat down next to them.

"You mean Ms Abercombe? Yeah, she got divorced again."

John let out a huff which he tried to disguise as disgruntled but Sherlock heard the small laugh under his breath. He leant towards John and kissed the side of his head. The man smiled and leant into it. Sherlock felt him relax underneath his lips and knew that John wouldn't be annoyed with him for long. Especially not with Amelie laughing the way she currently was at her parents' affection.

**Author's Note:**

> There is nothing to the name Amelie, apart from it being my absolute favourite girl's name. Just thought I'd put it to use in the fic and it kinda fit :)


End file.
